#i remembered this little snippet i wrote a while ago

[mediumtires]

Toto is in his office, the distinct sounds of sharing a space with someone dulled by heavy wood, and he’s staring at his bright screen, and somehow his throat has closed up enough for him to clear it, twice. There’s a strangely tight feeling right behind his sternum, in the middle of his chest, one that he can’t quite seem to reach.

short sequel to Growing Pains, from Toto’s POV. 2.6k

Christian has crow’s feet. On the right, it’s eleven deep lines, four of them curving upwards when he smiles, the rest fanning down, and off to the side of his face. Left, it’s seven. A few less, but still just as deep. They pull in his cheeks when he smiles.

Toto loves those lines. He was there when there were only four on the left, six on the right. Deeper though. They were even deeper back then, for some reason.

Toto was also there for the teeth. He was there when Christian started to let his stubble grow, he was there for the first grey hairs that led to a life changing haircut. He was there when Christian quietly started to size up his jeans.

He was there when Christian got appendicitis on New Year’s Eve, was there for food poising more than once, was there for broken toes and bruised fingers when they were renovating the farm. He was there when Christian’s brother got diagnosed with cancer. Was there for the party too, when he was finally cancer free.

What Toto wasn’t there for was Christian winning his first title in eight years. It’s not a secret, he knows, Christian knows. Of course they know; it’s one of the biggest hurdles they ever had to overcome, the fact that he wasn’t there for it.

He’d made his position crystal clear; December 2021, and the months after shaped by the decisions he had made. Toto had his team to worry about that night. Lewis, Valtteri, Bono, Andrew, James, everyone else. Himself. He’d had enough to worry about. He didn’t think about Christian very much that night. Not about his crow’s feet, or the ring on his left hand, or the fact that they were in big big trouble. He’d done it deliberately, knowingly. And he doesn’t regret it. Hasn’t, since, mostly because he can’t allow himself to. He’s regretted many things, the aftermath, the months of fighting. But he doesn’t regret standing up for his team that night.

Only now… Now Toto is in his office at home, behind his big desk, with the door closed, the distinct sounds of sharing a space with someone dulled by heavy wood, and he’s staring at his bright screen, and somehow his throat has closed up enough for him to clear it, twice. There’s a strangely tight feeling right behind his sternum, right in the middle of his chest, one that he can’t quite seem to reach.

There’s a video playing, one that he’s not sure he even clicked on himself, one that he really shouldn’t be watching. What he should be doing is preparing for his meeting with the Petronas people first thing tomorrow morning.

Instead, his eyes follow Christian, champagne soaked, shaky handed, teary eyed, on his way from the pit wall to the garages to the podium back to the garages. He looks—Toto can’t think of the right word for it. He can only think about the look on his face, equal parts mind shattering relief, pure joy and pure devastation, though Toto knows that part is only for him to see. And his crow’s feet. Eleven deep lines accompanying his watery smile.

He looks devastating to Toto. It’s a strange realisation because until now, Abu Dhabi has only ever been painful to think about. And it still is, in most ways. Only now that he’s looking at his husband through a screen, watching him getting celebrated, congratulated, touched by a million other people, Toto is kicking himself that he wasn’t there to see him like this when he had the chance. He never got to see this joy on Christian’s face in real life. Instead, what they did was so much worse, so much more painful.

Toto has trouble swallowing around the knot in his throat. Suddenly he has the stupid urge to put his hand to his computer screen, touch his fingertips to the bright lights and follow the soft lines of Christian’s face, sweaty and champagne wet, teary eyed and grinning so wide it must’ve hurt his cheeks. Toto wants that version of him, badly, so badly in fact, that his heart seizes in his chest, thudding hard.

Christian is in the kitchen. He’s making dinner, the dogs at his feet following his every move with big hopeful eyes. Christian doesn’t turn around when Toto comes in, his voice drowned out by the extractor fan as he says, “Dinner’ll be another few.”

Toto couldn’t care less about dinner right now. He stalks up to where Christian is watching over sizzling eggs in a pan, and a second later he’s got him pressed to the counter, licking into his mouth. Christian makes an undignified noise at the back of his throat and the spatula he was holding topples to the floor. Toto doesn’t care. His hands are on Christian’s cheeks, and he can feel his crow’s feet beneath his thumbs. He tastes salt and the tangy sweetness of cherry tomatoes.

Christian presses his palms flat to his chest and pushes. “Hey!” He tries to bring distance between them, and Toto lets him, of course he does, but he still curls himself around Christian’s body, tucks his face into his neck, kisses the leathery skin there too.

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” Christian’s arms come up around Toto’s back only reluctantly. “I’m going to burn the bloody eggs!”

“Sorry.” Toto should be letting him go. Christian has put effort into making dinner, and Toto respects that. Still, he has a hard time moving away from him.

“What’s—” Christian’s face is one big question mark. “Darling? You alright?”

Toto bends to pick the spatula up from the ground and turns away to give it a quick rinse in the sink. “Ja,” he says. “I’m fine.”

Christian’s expression is critical when he takes the spatula back. He goes back to stirring the eggs, stocky and yellow, then turns the heat down with a flick of his wrist. Toto wants to kiss him so badly. The images of Christian, victorious in Abu Dhabi won’t leave his mind. Nor his chest.

Christian turns back around and this time it’s he who pulls Toto in by the hips, presses their bodies together. He leans in and there’s a kiss to the corner of Toto’s mouth, feathery light. Toto can’t help but wrap himself around Christian again, breathing him in, relieved. “What’s going on?” Christian asks carefully, fingertips dipping beneath the waistline of Toto’s chinos. 

He feels so familiar in Toto’s arms. Toto has so many regrets right now, but he can’t possibly tell him. Not with everything they’ve been through. Not with how hard they’ve worked to come out the other side, he can’t bring it all back up again. 

“Nothing,” he murmurs into Christian’s hair. Eyes closed. He smells familiar too. Toto would recognise him anywhere by this alone, the musky notes of his cologne, a hint of leather from the wristband of his watch, undertones of sweat mixed with laundry detergent. “I just wanted to kiss my husband.”

“Come here then.” This time it’s Christian’s fingers on his jaw pulling their faces close, and then it’s gentle brushes of lips, painfully meaningful, tongues coming together in deep licks, Toto brushing the roof of Christian’s mouth, the back of his teeth, tasting everything. He wants all of it and more, and he’s so mad at himself for everything that happened in 2021. He wishes he could turn back the time, make better decisions, just a couple. Not even to win, it’s not about that. Just. For them. He should’ve done better.

Christian kisses back with the same intensity. One of his hands is on Toto’s cheek, fingertips brushing into his hair, lightly stroking his temple, his cheekbone. His stubble rubs against Toto’s top lip and Toto wants more of it, wants this forever.

 “‘m sorry.”

Christian pulls back, confused. “Mhm?”

Toto wants to kick himself. “Nothing.” He leans in again, but Christian doesn’t let him get away with it.

“What do you mean, you’re sorry? Sorry for what?”

Toto breathes around a deep sigh. He lets his forehead tip to Christian’s but keeps his eyes shut. Breathes him in. So familiar.

“It’s nothing.”

“Toto,” Christian warns.

“I was watching something. That’s all.”

“Porn?”

Toto pulls back with an offended puff of breath and when their eyes meet Christian is laughing. “Darling, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“I wasn’t watching porn in my office, Christian.” He’s genuinely offended Christian would think— “I— Come on.”

A grin spreads over Christian’s face, making his crow’s feet crinkle, fanning deeply up and down the sides. “Whatever you’re doing in there is fine with me, darling. No hard feelings.”

“Just—shut up,” Toto tells him even though his heart is still cracked wide open. He turns away. Walks over to the stove to stir the eggs. They look a little more brown than yellow now.

“Hey.” Christian brushes both of his palms down Toto’s back, then wraps his arms around him from behind to press a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Sorry. You’re upset. What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” Toto sighs softly.

“It’s clearly something. You ambushed me in the kitchen. Something’s up.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Toto. Darling.” Christian’s arms tighten around him, both palms pressed to the softest part of his stomach now, left and right to his navel. He tingles from the inside out.

“I was watching a video about Abu Dhabi.” He admits to it quietly, half of him hoping Christian won’t hear him over the sizzling of the pan. “I don’t even know… It just popped up, it was attached to an email. But I didn’t mean to bring it up again, I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about it again.”

Christian doesn’t say anything for a few very long seconds. He holds Toto in the same manner as before, his face mushed to the planes of his back, his body warm against Toto’s, over a decade of familiarity to the touch. Then he says, “You said.”

Toto’s face scrunches up in confusion, but he doesn’t move, just keeps staring down at the pan.

“You said you were sorry,” Christian clarifies. “For watching the video, or for what happened in Abu Dhabi?”

Toto’s chest smarts, pulls into a tight hard knot. “I don’t think… Let’s not talk about it again.”

“Because you’re uncomfortable?” Christian asks. “Or because you’re afraid I haven’t forgiven you yet?”

Toto doesn’t have an answer. The only thing he knows is that the eggs are burning. Christian doesn’t let him go but now his hold feels like it could crush Toto any second.

“I know you’re sorry,” Christian goes on. “And we’re past Abu Dhabi. Things are okay, yeah?”

Toto swallows hard. “Yes.”

Christian presses another kiss to his back, soothing this time. “Good. So why are you sorry?”

“I—” Christian doesn’t let him go. “I didn’t see you.” Toto’s voice breaks on the last syllable. “That night in Abu Dhabi. I was too concerned with other things, I didn’t watch the podium, I didn’t even leave the garage. So I didn’t know what you looked like that night until just fifteen minutes ago.” Heart in his throat he adds, “And I regret that. Not being there for it. Because you looked—”

Beautiful. Proud. Relieved. Real. Heartbreakingly authentic.

“I could’ve shared that with you, that night, the win, your success, but I didn’t. And I regret that. More than anything I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I wish I—” And now he’s fucking choking up.

“Oh.” Christian moves then, unfreezes and untangles himself from Toto’s back to turn him around by the hips. “Oh, darling, no, come on.”

Toto can’t look at him, but then again, he can’t really look at anything because tears are blurring his vision.

“No, darling, no, come here.” Christian wraps him up in a hug then, pulls him in, one arm wrapped around his middle, the other around his shoulders, and he presses the side of his face to Toto’s neck. “It’s okay. We’re past that.”

Toto doesn’t say anything. It doesn't feel like they’re past it. This is the first time he has allowed himself to cry about any of this in front of Christian. It’s been months, and it doesn’t feel like they’re past it.

“I know you would’ve been there if things had been different. But it was complicated, I know that. I’m not mad.”

“I’m mad,” Toto croaks, and as he says it, he realises it’s true. “I am so mad, Christian. I’m mad I didn’t get to share any of it with you. It was such a significant moment, and I wasn’t there with you. We won’t ever get that back.”

Christian takes a moment. “Okay,” he then says quietly. “Now I understand. I get it. I’m mad too.” Toto stills. “Not at you. At the whole thing, the circumstances leading up to it. It’s no one’s fault. We knew it would be difficult to keep things separate, and in the end, we didn’t manage. That’s okay. And it’s okay to be mad about it.”

“I’m not trying to bring it all back up again, I know we’re past it. It’s in the past.” Toto curls his arms around Christian’s back and pulls him in tighter, noses the side of his face, the imprint of the lines around his eyes. “I just didn’t realise how much I missed out that night. You looked so—”

“What?” Christian probes, curious.

“Sexy,” Toto croaks and there’s a second of silence before Christian breaks out into a loud, husky cackle. 

“Are you— Toto, are crying because you didn’t get to fuck me that night?”

“Maybe.” Toto cracks a small grin and smothers it in Christian’s hair. They both know it’s more than that. But they also know there’s no way they can turn back time. What happened happened. It’s in the past.

“Oh fucking hell. You have no idea how badly I wanted you to be there that night.”

“Ja?”

“Yeah,” Christian says, and then he pulls back and looks Toto in the eyes and says, “Yes, darling. Of course I wanted you to be there with me. I wanted to—Look, I wanted to come and find you too, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. So I get it. I have regrets too.”

Toto has to pull him in again and Christian goes willingly, presses their foreheads together, noses brushing, and kisses Toto once more, deep. “I get it,” he murmurs to his lips. “But we’re okay, yeah?”

“Yes,” Toto agrees. Eyes closed. Christian smells like home. “Next time.”

“We’ll do so much better this year,” Christian agrees. “I’ll even let you spray me with champagne in front of everyone.”

Toto rolls his eyes, a small grin pulling stubbornly at the corners of his mouth. “You will let me, yes? That is very generous of you.”

“I know,” Christian agrees smugly. “You’re allowed to do it in front of everyone, too.”

“If you’re not careful, I will be doing something very different than shower you in champagne in front of everyone, darling.”

“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time, darling.”

Toto hates him a little bit, his pleased smirk, the self-satisfaction, the green of his eyes twinkling, daring, his crow’s feet so deep, seven on the left, eleven on the right.

Toto doesn’t stand a chance. Not this season, but more importantly, not tonight either.

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

summary: A romance that explores two insecure people growing closer together through snippets of their time at work.

author’s note: Can I post three things a day? Yes. This is the first fic I've written and I love it dearly. It connected me with @rennethen who has been beta reading it patiently and helped me create significant parts of it, and for that connection alone it was worth to write it.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“Renly, are you being serious right now?” John stormed into the lab’s kitchen visibly flushed with anger. Renly only blinked at him, a question in her eyes.

“I guess? Didn’t you get my note?” She definitely remembered sending the note asking John to take a raincheck. She even made a song about it to not forget, like the last time. Viktor had mocked the song at first but later grew annoyed with it.

”Please stop, this song is now rotting my brain. I get it, John is a nice guy,” Viktor rotated on his chair with a groan that has clearly been building up for at least one minute.

“Sorry, it’s the only way I don’t get distracted and forget!” to Viktor’s demise, Renly sang this line as well.

“Well, didn’t you get my note?” John said, already huffing, seemingly offended. He did get her note, he did see the little heart she drew on it and a coffee stain that suggested she wrote it hastily, while doing something else with her other hand. So, he sent a passive aggressive jokey note back stating that it’s tomorrow or he doesn’t know when, because he is also oh-so-busy.

“I can’t make it otherwise,” he laid his hands apart in apologetic gesture.

“Like… this week? Or ever?” light mockery in her voice, she said with her back to John, while pouring coffee into two cups. “It’s okay, we can have breakfast here. Do you want coffee?” Renly pulled out the third cup from the sink and waved it at John expectantly.

At which point, Viktor entered their tiny lab kitchen, scrunching his wet hair with a damp towel, his cheeks flushed and clothes slightly dishevelled, clinging to his hot-after-shower body. “Do I smell coffee? Hi John,” he said, waving at the doorway.

“Nothing will hide from you. Crisis averted?” Renly asked referring to fifteen minutes ago, when Viktor banged viciously on the bathroom door, demanding shower access immediately, as he spilled suspicious fluid from Renly’s workstation all over himself.

She said it was punishment for snooping. He said she’d taken his favourite pen, and her workstation was planned ridiculously, making moving around risky. Also, she took showers that lasted forever. She said her shower was only fifteen minutes, which is perfectly within bounds of morning toilet routine. He said she should shower at home and sleep at home; otherwise, she would end up a social pariah like him and Jayce. She said it’s a bit late for that as night is a perfect time for quiet work and she is one person away from the social pariah status. She meant John. So right now, it really did look like she was close to adding it to her work signature. She had to evacuate from the bathroom before she had the chance to dry off completely, which is why her hair was wet.

“Did you shower together?” John’s tone gained additional pitch to it as he asked his ridiculous question, visibly getting more and more distressed.

“Yes, John. We also have occasional orgies that I forgot to mention,” Renly couldn’t help about the snarky comment but when she turned around to take a look at her… boyfriend? They went out about ten times and slept together twice, so she guessed he was her boyfriend already. Well, he looked hurt, and she immediately wished she didn’t say it, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

“Please, don’t be like that. I pulled an all-nighter again, and it was too late to go home. We showered separately, obviously,” she said in a softer voice as the cups were placed on the tiny table in the middle of the kitchen, only three chairs.

“I will give the two of you some space,” Viktor swept his cup with Jayce’s face on it and gave both of them polite smile as he walked out faster, than Renly thought he was able to.

“So… are you very cross with me?” she waited for Viktor to leave the area and asked reaching out to place her palm on top of John’s forearm, but he winced away.

John had always been good at making himself seem indispensable. When they first started seeing each other, his charm felt effortless—little gestures like remembering her favourite tea or distracting her with a ridiculous joke when she was too stressed to focus. She had let her guard down with him in a way she rarely allowed herself to. It had felt safe, comforting even. But lately, the cracks in that façade were harder to ignore. He got offended easily and threw some stupid accusations at her when he was out of arguments. She did admit, she was quite oblivious to some of relationship savoir-vivre, but it was also discussed priorly! And he said he doesn’t mind, so the next part caught her off-guard.

“I… don’t think this will work out this way,” he said with a sigh and waved his hand around making her question if he meant them, or breakfast with Victor in near vicinity. “I didn’t know this is what I was signing up for frankly,” he finished and gave her a sad puppy glance. This made her… angry? Of course, he knew what he was signing up for. She told him from the very beginning how important her work was. And how bad she was at this, but he just called her cute. Surely, this was enough of a warning. Or maybe it wasn’t but John really didn’t seem like he heard anything of what she ever said in the long run.

He was a Piltie, and she was from Zaun. He liked posh places that were trying to pass as casual, she liked to hang out by the riverbank in the evenings and sneak into The Undercity to look at street art and eat street food. He always seemed to pay attention to what she was telling him about her lab work and how many lives it could potentially change but at the end of every test presentation and heated one-sided conversation (it was hot on her side only) when she looked at him expectantly, he praised her with a you are so smart or you look pretty when you get excited about science and it left her empty of all air like a sad balloon in the aftermath of a party. He probably had a politician’s career ahead of him, so in the future, he would be the person to decide whether she does or doesn’t get funding for her research and in her mind’s eye John was a person that would probably happily fund something else than the medicine for long term Grey exposure symptoms. But he was a good practice for that. And despite everything else, she did like him. He had his moments, as they say.

In a few seconds, that took very long in the pocket dimension of her brain, Renly tried to calculate how much fault in this situation was hers and if it was worth to back down and give him a peace offering in form of a dinner at her place, that she would cook, and they would be alone, and it would be romantic, and he would probably get to fuck her on the dinner table.

The plan started forming itself, when John said “I mean… you spend all your free time here, or you drag me around the lanes. Also, this Viktor guy? I got over Jayce, recently he is barely here. So…” he dragged his huge eyes across her face looking for a sign of understanding that wasn’t there “…you understand how I feel when you spend most of your time with another man.” It came out weak, but he decided to stand by it.

“Another man? It’s Viktor,” she scoffed. “Not even a day ago he stated how much I disgust him with Zaunian food in fridge. He works all the time. We sleep in separate rooms. He…” Renly inhaled, exasperated by this accusation. It’s ridiculous, how insecure John was to even suggest that.

“He is a friend. And that’s all. I assure you he is not interested in me.” She had a dead serious certainty about this. If something was fixed in this universe, it was the fact that Viktor wasn’t interested in her. And she didn’t think of him that way either. Except the one time she let her mind wander, and she did. Which was a lie, because she thought that at least twice.

Once, when they met for the first time. She already knew Jayce, who made her gasp the first time she saw him. The impression passed, but friendship remained. Jayce and Viktor, freshly acquainted, were passing her classroom when a quake shook The Uppercity. It caused one of her test tubes to fall into the vial she was working on, breaking and triggering a teeny-tiny exoenergic reaction (it exploded). The hero within Jayce’s body drove him straight in to help any casualties, of which the only one was Renly, face full of colourful goo. From the floor, she glanced at Viktor walking in shortly after his partner, and she gasped, even more than when she had met Jayce. She immediately knew it was wrong to look for so long. Her suspicion was confirmed when Viktor’s expression shifted from amusement to the realization that his brief chance to present himself as more than the guy with a cane had passed. From that point forward, he was very formal with her, though he occasionally joked about history repeating itself within the academy walls.

It was a lie though, as well. She first saw Viktor by the riverbank in Zaun, as a child. She had been maybe seven, and he could have been slightly older. Her eyes, round and curious, followed him trying to chase down his mechanical ship taken by the stream. She tried to shadow him that day, but he disappeared in the mouth of a cave she was afraid to walk into. He had a smaller cane then and she thought him a magician. So, she only lingered in disbelief that their paths crossed once more and that he was, indeed, real. And also, in awe of how beautifully he has grown up. But overall, Renly counted it as a one time.

Second time, after she decided to stay at university to continue her research and teach students, they were copying the notes together and Jayce was growing more and more bored, so he kept trying to start random topics.

"I wonder if all of them are as pretty as Mel,” he said, trying to trace down beautiful Mel Medarda’s heritage while fishing for reassurance from his friends about their imminent romance.

“But maybe it’s not a rule. I mean, looking at the both of you I would say the rule for Zaun is to be full of attractive people as well,” Jayce was waffling on, and Renly grew tired of it.

“And ugly people. And short people. And tall people. And fat people, and skinny people, Jayce. It’s all just people, like in Piltover, there is no rule to here or Zaun. Initially, it’s the same city, and we all come from different places,” she said harshly not lifting her sight from the notes she was copying.

“Oh relax, it was a compliment! And I am looking for reassurance from you guys, yes,” he traced his finger down the blackboard, wiping some of the old equations away.

“Not very progressive of you, the Man of Progress. I can give you reassurance – Mel seems fine. You will be fine. You are a big boy, Jayce. But I do not need compliments, not because I’m from The Undercity, nor because I’m a woman,” Renly’s dead stare made Jayce look for help from Viktor. She gave him a pass and went back to scribbling.

“Vik, any help?”

“I’m afraid with this one I have to place myself in Renly’s corner. Even though of the two of us, I probably am the one that needs compliments,” Viktor also didn’t glance up from above his paperwork.

“No, you don’t,” Renly didn’t notice she now got the attention of both of her friends.

“You are, yourself, quite…” her mind was absent at this moment, so it was probably the other part of her that spoke the rest “…dreamy.” A second past, in which her brain caught up with her mouth and a deep shade of red bled into her cheeks and chest. She cleared her throat, stood up quickly and threw barely audible excuse me leaving the boys to exchange their looks and make their fun of her. Jayce snorted when Renly was out of hearing range and Viktor only mouthed a what was that? That was the second time, infinitely more mortifying than the first one.

“You put a lot of effort into assuring me of this, but you never once said if you are not interested in him. From where I’m standing, you are definitely not interested in me,” John’s voice broke her out of reminiscing.

Renly’s face went into stupid mode, twisting her features with disbelief. How dare he.

“Are you really saying what I’m hearing? Are you accusing me of infidelity based on your own insecurity? Have I truly given you any reason to believe I’m involved with anyone else but you? When do you think I would have time for that? Or do you actually not listen to me when I tell you about what I’m doing here and how much of my time and energy it consumes?” John’s expression grew more and more panicked as he saw how far he has overstepped.

“This is not… I didn’t…”

“What you didn’t do is think. You are the one who is not interested in me, John. You listen to me, but you do not register, nor remember anything I tell you. What do you want from me? Should I drop everything I’m doing just to dangle from your shoulder at the parties? Should I change the way I speak? Should I cut all my friends and relatives loose because they are from The Undercity? Would that make you feel secure enough?” she spat at him, becoming more and more angry with every sentence, self-winding regret fuelling her.

“Gods, this is not what I want, and you know it,” John brought his hand to the back of his neck, his voice gentler this time. “I just don’t feel like you want me around, is all,” he whispered, his words making Renly’s shoulders drop and her chest sink.

His fingers tapped an idle rhythm on the table, his eyes darting toward the adjoining lab room. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him stealing glances at her colleagues’ workspaces, but she had always dismissed it as idle curiosity or stupid jealousy, first over Jayce, then over Viktor. Now, though, every stolen glance felt like a clue she should have picked up on sooner.

“I do,” she hesitated. “I did. I invited you to meet my people, come to my home, my work, my bed,” at which point, in the other room, Viktor—who was doing his absolute worst not to listen—squeezed a piece of chalk a little too hard, causing half of it to disintegrate into dust with a loud, whiny, bone-chilling sound that gave him goosebumps at the back of his neck. So, they slept together, great. Just great. It didn’t bother him at all, and yet… it bothered him greatly for some reason. Probably just because she will be a nightmare to be around for the next week or so.

Ridiculous, Viktor thought, though the word didn’t carry the weight he wanted it to. What did it matter who she invited into her bed? It certainly wasn’t his concern. The tightening in his chest wasn’t jealousy—it couldn’t be. No, it was irritation, that’s all. Irritation because she was so impulsive, so reckless, letting herself be distracted by someone so undeserving of her attention.

Why did it bother him? It wasn’t the first time she’d been entangled in some personal drama, and usually, he had the patience to tune it out. Yet here he was, bristling at every raised word, every pointed jab from John. It wasn’t his place to care. He had told himself years ago that people like Renly—bright, chaotic, and distractingly beautiful—were nothing but a complication. And yet, he found himself gripping his cane tighter every time John’s voice rose.

“Just realistically, I don’t think this is what you want. So, the obvious choice would be to put a pin in it until we both decide what we want,” her voice faltered. Breaking things off with John hadn’t been part of her plans for the day, and she could never have been emotionally prepared for this—especially not before breakfast. She wasn’t really breaking things off with him, either. Maybe a short, temporary break would do them good, cool things off. She fidgeted with her fingers under the table, becoming increasingly self-conscious about how much of the conversation Viktor had overheard.

“Really? So now it’s about me not respecting your Zaunian heritage, instead of you blowing me off at every opportunity?” at this point John knew that guilting her into giving it one more shot was probably his only chance. His father really wanted those hextech blueprints, and he would be very disappointed if John didn’t manage to get them. “Look, I don’t mind if we hang out here at all. But truth be told, you don’t really invite me here very often,” John said, his voice softer now, but there was an edge beneath it, like a scalpel disguised as a pen.

He had a way of twisting her words, making her feel like the selfish one for not prioritizing him more. It was a skill he wielded well, and for a moment, it almost worked. But the memory of all those little disappointments—the times he had brushed off her work as "just another experiment" or barely listened when she explained her progress—bubbled up like a pressure valve ready to burst. He did actually like her. She was his type – pretty, quirky, talented and driven. She could be a bit more elegant, but that would be polished with time. “We could make a schedule, meet here when nobody is around? Maybe you could even show me some hextech, hm?” with this, he knew he probably pushed a little bit too far, as her expression grew weary.

There it was again, that same calculated curiosity masked as casual conversation. At first, she had chalked it up to natural interest—what Piltover scholar wouldn’t want to know more about hextech? But now, with his eyes lingering too long on the blueprints and his questions steering the conversation in predictable directions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about more than idle fascination.

“I… you know I don’t work with hextech,” she shook her head while her brain was glueing the pieces together. “Why would you…,” and it hit her gently, prompted by the guilt painting her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend’s face. Unbelievable. When she thought about it longer, he did usually snoop around innocently while waiting for her to wrap up work. He would wander between the lab rooms, seemingly just killing time, but she saw him linger on the blueprints more than once. When she told him about her experiments, he always drove the discussion towards Viktor and Jayce’s work. How are they doing? So does this hextech actually work? And what do they want to use it for again? And he tried to pin it on her sleeping with Viktor. The audacity.

Renly wanted to believe the relationship had been real, that it hadn’t just been about her work or her connections. But as she stared at him now—his charming smile just a little too polished, his words just a little too well-placed—she realized how many times she had ignored her instincts. How often she had pushed aside the nagging thought that he didn’t see her, not really. Just the parts of her that were useful.

“So… you come here and make a scene about the note that you seemingly wrote for me and that I didn’t get. You accuse me of cheating on you with my colleague,” at which point Viktor scoffed to himself in the other room. The idea of Renly and him being a thing was laughable. She was too stubborn, too unpredictable, too... distracting. And yet, John’s misplaced jealousy had struck an uncomfortable chord. Absurd, Viktor reassured himself. If anything, she deserves better than someone like me. She deserves better than both of us.  

“You propose a solution – let’s hang out here,” Renly exhaled, and her eyes rested on her hands with the realization of being used all this time hitting her hard. She didn’t think she cared that much. Frankly, having a normal secure relationship also with someone normal and secure was a hope she didn’t dare to entertain very often. It was mostly work and friends for her. So, when John came along, she just let it happen, as maybe, she thought, it was a good thing happening to her. Realizing there was no love in it, left her feeling numb.

In the other room, Viktor stopped pretending to work and simply sat on a stool, his hands and chin resting on his cane. That was new territory, a kind of danger they hadn’t anticipated. Also, he did feel angry for Renly – annoying as she was, she really didn’t deserve this. He wondered if he should intervene and kick John out, but the act would have to be based on his authority, which as a fellow Zaunian in John’s eyes he had none. Any show of force would need to be purely verbal—calculated and precise enough to leave the boy speechless and make him back down without a fight. While he was negotiating the terms of this heroic act with himself, he heard Renly’s voice echoing across the corridors: “I think it’s best you go.”

“Can we talk this through?” one last desperate attempt on John’s side as he covered Renly’s palm with his. She slid her hand from underneath his, threw a quick no over her shoulder and stepped through a heavy metal door that separated living area form the laboratory. She locked it behind her with a loud crank and immediately sank to hug her knees. Well, shit. This wasn’t part of her plan for today. And she didn’t want to cry in front of Viktor. If Jayce was here, he’d make it better, but he was with the beautiful Mel Medarda having breakfast in her quarters, which was a secret. Viktor would make fun of her—or worse, he’d get cross for endangering their life’s work. On one side of the door, her mean ex-boyfriend, on the other her mean niggling friend. She could just stay here.

“Do you need help getting up?” Viktor’s voice made her gasp and release the tears that were gathering under her eyelids, now streaming down her cheeks. And just to be clear, they were angry tears, not sad pathetic tears.

“Maybe,” Renly said, wiping her face with a sleeve, unable to bring herself to look him in the eye. She accepted his offered hand, which was about to pull her up. Unfortunately, the sudden movement sent a cramp shooting down Viktor’s calf, leaving Renly standing while he folded in half.

“Oh shit, Viktor I’m sorry, let me grab a stool!”

“Ah, no need. It’s fine. Just a cramp, it’ll stretch,” he panted, sliding down the corridor wall. She crouched down by him, question in her eyes about what to do.

“Well, where is it? I can… rub it out?” she heard herself saying and a darker shade of pink flushed her already enflamed cheeks. Viktor noticed. Her hands were faster than her brain this time and she already had his calf in her grasp, looking for the knot.

The warmth of her hands startled him, a flicker of something unwanted creeping into his thoughts. He shut it down immediately. She’s just helping. Don’t make it into something it isn’t. But the gentleness of her touch lingered longer than it should have, and when she looked up at him, her face flushed with concentration, he had to look away. Focus, Viktor. This means nothing.

“How did you get this so bad, Viktor?” she gasped at the state of her friend’s muscle, contracted like a rusty hinge. Her eyes full of concern, and some guilt. She made him uncomfortable in his own lab, because of some stupid drama. Stupid, yet it tore a hole in her heart.

Viktor remembered this look. He remembered the way she had looked at him back when they first met—not the awestruck gaze she reserved for Jayce, but something deeper, sharper. It had unnerved him. People always noticed the cane first; it was a fact he had come to accept. But she had looked past it—no, she had lingered on it, and he wasn’t sure whether it was curiosity, pity, or something else entirely. It didn’t matter now. He had decided long ago to keep her at a polite distance.

“Too much sitting down, ah!” he gasped when more pressure was applied “I tried to work through your… quarrel,” Viktor’s voice grew breathier, his eyebrows pinching together. Absent-mindedly, he placed his right hand on Renly’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting his body relax into her touch. She was very careful, almost… affectionate.

“I guess this would fuel John’s theory,” he chuckled slightly, forgetting himself. Did he just admit that something was possible? Renly was too focused on getting rid of the knot to notice the awkward grunt following this sentence, and without much thought to it she said, “don’t be ridiculous.”

Something sunk in Victor’s chest hearing that. Of course, it was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. All of it. He was about to figure out how to run away, take his leg with him and tell her this is good enough, when she continued.

“I mean, we are not responsible for someone’s insecurities. I refuse to be. Also, as I presume you heard all of it, you will know that it was all a play,” she put so much attention into rubbing Viktor’s calf that the words just went out of her mouth. “Just to get his hands on hextech. So, I’m guessing this accusation was also fabricated to guilt me. Or he was obsessed with you. Which I understand… gotcha!” she exclaimed as the muscle relaxed under her fingers, and Viktor gave an involuntary moan, making both of them flush slightly.

The tension in his calf eased, but his chest felt impossibly tight. He was about to thank her—briefly, formally—when the look on her face stopped him. She was glowing, not with the self-satisfaction he often associated with Jayce, but with genuine care. It was infuriating. No, not infuriating—irrelevant. Why do you even notice these things? he scolded himself, rising awkwardly to his feet and turning away before the warmth in her eyes could undo him further.

“Forgive me, I… thank you,” was all he was able to say.

“That’s… it’s nothing, no worries.”

“I believe you know this, but in case you don’t—he’s a donkey, and you’re brilliant, yes?” Viktor tossed over his shoulder. “Ah, I’m not… thank you,” she said, standing in the corridor, confused, her face burning. What was that?

[you-til-i-die]

wishin’ I could write my name on it

f.odair x fem!reader

summary: a sneak peak into you and finnick’s lives

warnings/content: I wrote and edited this all in one sitting so if it’s absolute shit that’s why<3 district four victor!r, r is said to have throw up a few times, but none of it is graphic. mentions of blood and sex trafficking, cannon-typical shit really, swearing

song: august - ts

wc: 1.9k

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺

You and Finnick have one rule.

Don’t talk about it. Don’t ask about it. Don’t acknowledge it.

When the two of you are together, you can just forget about it. You can hang out on the beaches of District Four and pretend like these aren’t your lives.

But they are.

And it always somehow seeps through the cracks.

It’s in the way Finnick’s eyes are dull and empty the first few days after a trip to the capitol.

It’s in the way your laugh has morphed into a short bark.

It’s everywhere and it’s everything.

There’s no escaping it.

It haunts your dreams, it probably haunts Finnick’s too, even though you’d never ask.

Because that’s the rule. No asking. Ever.

————————————————————————

It was August. The sun seemed to slowly be getting the message that fall was getting nearer, the rays a little less intense then they had been a few weeks ago. The water was even the tiniest bit cooler, soothing a stubborn sunburn on your shoulders.

You were laying on the beach, face down on a towel, trying to ignore the stick of salt drying on your skin. You can’t help but let out a yawn, exhausted from the still persistent heat and trying to win against Finnick in a swimming race all day.

You were so relaxed. Focusing on the waves crashing against the shore. And the presence beside you that you knew was Finnick.

You honestly were about to fall asleep before he speaks. He mentions it so casually, he might as well have been asking what you wanted for dinner.

“Snow needs me in the capitol. I’m leaving on Friday.”

His voice is completely flat, devoid from all of its usual humor. It made you nauseous. You consider asking if he feels the same way, but you don’t. That was the rule. And you know the rules.

You push yourself up onto your elbows to get a good look at him, to try and decipher the look on his face. You could almost always read him. You hadn’t spent four years attached to each other to not learn the subtle mannerisms of the other. But this was different. It always was.

You and Finnick could talk about almost anything together. The games, the fear that you could never seem to shake, the nightmares, the way it was sometimes hard to stomach killing even a fish. But you never talk about this.

You never talk about how Snow will whisk one, or sometimes both, of you away whenever he needs a favor. You never tell him how afterwards you have to scrub your entire body raw before you can even begin to feel clean again. You don’t tell him how the first couple of times you would sob until you threw up, but now you just curl up and do your best to avoid the pit in your stomach.

Well, truthfully, you had talked about it once. But never again.

You had just been crowned victor of the 69th Hunger Games, District Four’s second victor in four years. It was no surprise, really. You were seventeen, and one of the oldest in the arena. You were strong, quick, and smart. So, so smart. You had won through pure trickery, and everyone loved you for it.

It’s hard for you to remember what happened the week after you won. There’s little snippets, of course. Looking down at the blood on your hands, blood that wasn’t yours. The booming of a voice in the arena, announcing that you were the victor. You had won. You did it. You had made District Four proud. And then you threw up.

You must have blacked out afterwards, because the next thing you remember is being back in your suite in the training center, sobbing in Finnick’s arms while he held you. Most of what you can remember is centered around him. Gripping onto his hand like a lifeline while your stylists buzzed around you. Glancing over Snow’s shoulder at him while the president crowned you. Watching him standing in the wings of the stage while Ceasar Flickerman went over a highlight reel of your time in the arena. Finding your way back into his arms on the train. You’re pretty sure Finnick didn’t say more than the same couple words the first week. It seemed to be a constant variation of “I know honey, but you’re safe now. I’ve got you sweetheart.”

It wasn’t until your victory tour that he told you. You doubt he ever would have, if he didn’t know for sure it would happen to you.

He had sat you down on the train after a party in District Two and told you everything. How Snow would practically sell him to people. How he didn’t have a say, and how you wouldn’t either, unless you wanted everyone you loved to be dead. He had grabbed your hands, shaking hand in shaking hand, and apologized profusely. He told you how he would do everything possible to keep you safe, he would offer himself instead of you. But you knew that wouldn’t work. Snow gets what Snow wants, and if Snow wants you to fuck his friends for some sick favor, there was nothing you, or Finnick, could do to stop that from happening.

“Oh.”

“Yah.” Was all Finnick said, refusing to meet you gaze as he stared out at the ocean. He’s working one of the muscles in his jaw and you have to look away before you grab his face and do something stupid.

“When will you be back?” You don’t say it, but you’re sure he understands the meaning. Please say it’ll only be one night. Please tell me they won’t put you through it more than once this time. Please tell me you’ll be back to hold me through the nightmares soon. Please don’t make me wait for you more than I already do.

“I’m not sure. Snow said a couple of days.”

No no no no no no no please no.

You didn’t respond. Scared that if you open your mouth the bile collecting in your throat would spill out.

You just look over at him. Take him in. It’s no wonder why the capitol loves him so much. Although not for his humor, his kindness, his strength, the way he’s always looking out for everyone but himself. None of that. Just because he’s a pretty face. But in the bright, golden sun, you find it hard to disagree with them. He’s all broad shoulders and a strong jawline. Bright green eyes that always seem to shine when they look at you. Sharp teeth hiding behind that perfect fucking smile. Salty hair you wanted to run your fingers through. Credit where credit is due, the capitol knows how to pick a sex symbol.

But you don’t see a sex symbol. Not right now. Right now all you see is the person you want to hold on to, and never let go of. The person you’d throw it all away for, if he asked. The person who seemed to always have another layer for you to work your way into, but you’d be damned if you ever stopped trying to get to the root of him.

You’ve been staring for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Finnick notices, of course, because Finnick notices everything.

“Honey?”

You tear your eyes away from where they had been tracing the veins in his hands. “Hm?”

“You ok?” And there it is. That fucking wolf smile. All sharp canines and slightly raised eyebrows because he knows. He knows he’s got you in between his teeth and he knows you’re happy to stay there because it’s him.

You pause, but just for a moment, trying not to give him the satisfaction of winning, of successfully flustering you. But his eyes are boring into yours and it’s so hard to look away from him, but you do. He wins. He normally does.

“‘M just thinking.”

“What about?” He asks. Flopping down on his side, trying to get on eye level with you because it’s never just enough for him to win, he has to make sure you know that he knows it.

You just roll your eyes at him, there’s nothing else you can do.

“About how we’ve been out here since nine in the morning and it’s after noon now, and you haven’t reapplied sunscreen once.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes now.

“I don’t burn, honey, you know that.”

“What about that time you were out all day, didn’t put sunscreen on once, and then I had to rub aloe vera on your back for a week because you burned like hell and all of your skin was peeling off?” You ask, smile working its way onto your face. You know you’ve got him. You’re winning now.

He pauses, he doesn’t back down easily. “It was a fluke. A glitch, even.” He says, trying his best to shrug his shoulders even though he’s lying down. He fails. It looks ridiculous. You have to try not to laugh. “I honestly think the sun just had a vendetta against me that day.”

You’re failing at biting back a smile now. “At least let me get your back because there is literally nothing you could say or do to ever get me to help you with a third degree sunburn again.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just makes a big show of groaning and rolling his eyes at you before rolling onto his back.

You’ve won.

“So dramatic? You know that? It’s like being friends with a child.” You say as you root around in your bag for your sunscreen. Trying to ignore the disgusting feeling you know it will leave on your hands as you squirt it out.

He props himself up on his elbows to look at you, surely about to counter with some story about you being much more dramatic than him, before you shove him back down, face in the sand.

“Ow.”

“You’re fine. A little sand never killed anyone.”

You decide to ignore his grumbling, focusing on spreading the sunscreen on his back. However, you can’t ignore the growing pit in your stomach that you know will be there until Finnick’s back from the capitol.

Still, they can’t take this from you. You’ve earned it. You deserve to be here, definitely not checking out your best friend who you know you can’t have.

You lose yourself for a moment. Letting yourself focus on the way his muscles feel under your hands. Maybe, one day, this could be real. The capitol will find new, attractive victors, and they’ll move on. You and Finnick can fade into the background, and just live.

You pull back, and grab the tube again, squirting it directly on his back. You start to rub it in before pausing for a moment, why not?

Quickly, you write your name in the sunscreen on his back. Snow has cameras everywhere. Maybe he’s watching. Maybe he’s not. But either way, at least for a second, you can say mine. All mine. You can’t take him from me, not really.

He feels it, lifting his head up just as you’re wiping away the evidence.

“Are you drawing on my back?”

You flash him your own smile. A little less wolfish, a little more coy.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺

A/n: Hi omg I wrote this in one sitting😭this has just been rattling around in my head for weeks now and I had to get it out lol. Constructive criticism and feedback is always appreciated, I hope you all enjoyed<3

[seasirengirl]

EVERYTHING YOU SEE IS A PART OF YOUR IMAGINATION, EVERYTHING YOU SEE IS A LIE.

pairing: jason grace x f!neptune!reader

warning: jason is kinda a bop in this, reader is referred to as a blonde

a/n: wrote this at 4am so it’s probably really stupid, but i was thinking of writing hcs for a part 2? idk would y’all read that?

growing up at camp jupiter meant being a soldier, a warrior with no life outside of their duties, a disciplined demigod with no mistakes ever made. this mindset messed up a lot of the kids’ mind, awarding them with different mental illnesses that they wouldn’t be experiencing if their lives were just, normal.

normal could mean a lot of things, but jason grace lost the touch of it a long time ago.

what was normal? being a mortal in high school or spending his everyday life in camp jupiter?

none of these options were available to him, because in the middle of his quest to save the queen of the heavens, he felt more confused than ever, his memories slowly coming back, but in little snippets, unnecessary things were being brought back to him, such as a certain scent that reminded him of… he didn’t remember who. he was surely going crazy.

and the blurred face of a girl he saw every time he ever got the chance to fall into hypnos’ domain certainly did not help the situation. maybe he did something so terrible in the past that he didn’t even get the chance of sleeping undisturbed, but what did he do? he didn’t even remember.

the question that bore into the mind of a mere reader would’ve been, 'what did he even remember?’ an oblivion, absolute nothingness.

and his two apparent friends, leo and piper.

while piper seemed to not be much of a friend, she still kept her patience.

jason, being the selfless soul he was, always managed to put everyone else before himself, he was worried that he was breaking piper’s heart by his amnesia, which, by the way, was not his fault either, but who else was there to blame? truthfully, no one.

while the quest was ongoing, he managed to get used to being apart of the trio, managing to fall more and more in love with the mystery that was piper mclean, or so he thought.

piper was absolutely gorgeous, in her own unique way, she was something to be looked at, to be admired and treated with care and love, but the world that they got exposed into, certainly was not up to the standard jason wanted piper to be put at.

she was also a total knockout, pretty, smart and really unique, what more could a guy want?

right?

then why did the ocean breeze randomly flow through his nostrils when jason was not anywhere near an ocean? what about the blonde soft wavy hair he always saw in his dreams, or the laugh he heard during one of those dreams. something about the girl in his dreams made jason’s life way more complicated, he could not get her out of his head, but how could he? it’s like the gods above truly did not want anything to be remotely normal in his life.

was it all just a set-up, was he cursed? or was he simply going insane over a woman he had never met? it had to end.

apparently the blonde from his dreams did not even exist, he described her to a lot of people, but not one person in camp half-blood knew anything, so he gave up.

the argo II had to be built and they had to fight mother earth, gaea, along with quite a lot of giants, girl problems could wait.

while keeping himself busy, he found his sweet escape to be piper, maybe what was between them was real, it wasn’t just venus having “fun” for a bit and making him insane? he still got dreams from time to time, but they didn’t corrupt his whole time.

but a few months passed, his and piper’s relationship was going well, they were just days away from going to camp jupiter, while going there to find the rest of the eight demigods from the great prophecy was the goal, maybe he could find her there?

and just like that, thoughts and dreams about the mysterious ocean girl slowly came back.

until the day they finally landed in camp jupiter. pieces of jason’s memory came back to him, but not all of it, but everything seemed to click the second he got the chance to actually look around the (not-so) familiar territory.

his hand intertwined with piper’s, he entered camp jupiter, he noticed annabeth running off to a black haired boy, who he assumed to be percy jackson, since that was the guy everyone seemed to be looking for ever since his arrival.

but right next to percy, stood a girl, but not just any pretty girl, her.

the girl from his imagination.

she quickly noticed jason, running over to him and pulling him into a hug, he noticed slight tears in her eyes that weren’t willing to spill.

jason was stunned, his hand was still holding piper’s, until it wasn’t, he felt it let go.

but jason had your arms around him, which felt better than anyone elses.

“i missed you, jase.” you said quietly, in a tone barely above a whisper.

“i-i’m sorry, i don’t remember.”

“percy told me it was a possibility, i just never thought you’d forget me, after all that we’ve been through. he remembered things about annabeth, did you really forget all about me?” a single stray tear managed to escape your eyes, raised in camp jupiter, crying was not something you were used to, but given the circumstances, what else were you supposed to do? sit around and smile like nothing happened, like you didn’t just realise that the love of your life forgot about you? “no, i’m sorry, it’s not your fault, i can’t blame that on you.” you quickly added, noticing how much pressure you put on the boy you loved.

“jason, what’s going on?” that was the voice of the girl jason came back with, sweet as honey. did he find a replacement? have you commited a sin so unforgivable that the gods had to punish you this way? he held her hand, they came in happily, you weren’t needed.

“i don’t know, look, let’s just go and find annabeth, she’ll know what to do.” jason simply shrugged away from your uncounter, living the girl of his dreams in tears, standing there, empty.

and it certainly did not help that jason and his newfound girlfriend were on the ship too, so you couldn’t really be miserable all the time.

you had to put in the effort.

that same night, as you were about to go to bed in your cabin, percy came in to check on you and you suddenly got the urge to tell him about all of your emotions and thoughts, since he was a great listener and also probably the only person who could cheer you up.

so you told him, if you couldn’t trust your brother, who could you trust? you told him some details he didn’t already know about your and jason’s complicated relationship and about him and his new girlfriend.

jason’s cabin was the one opposing yours, so he got a bit confused and almost opened the door to your cabin, but he heard your voice, and his name a few times too, so he did something absolutely irresistible, eavesdropping.

“it was complicated for so many years, and when we finally confessed, 3 months later he just disappeared one morning, i count every minute he was a way, and he came back with a new girlfriend, what did i do to venus so horrible? she gave me a hair comb once after a quest, she doesn’t like hate me or something, right? or does that mean my hair is really messy?” you kept on rambling.

“shh, i don’t know about jason, but if he’s willing to break your heart like that, i’m not gonna be okay with it, goodnight, y/n.” percy kissed your forehead.

“night, perce.”

just as percy walked out of the cabin, he saw jason standing by the door.

“hope you heard all that, buddy.” he mumbled.

if jason thought he was going insane months ago, he for sure knows he’s insane by now.

around a week has passed since that night, jason admired you from far away, getting reminded of why he fell in love with you all those years ago.

it was a quiet evening, some calm and peace, the typical calm before the storm vibes were around.

and it sure ended up being a storm that night for jason grace. he had been thinking about ending things with piper, since remembering things were making him all confused, all of the fake memories were faded too, so their relationship was hanging by a thread, which piper tore that night.

“we need to talk.” piper exclaimed, her tone sounded serious, not the usual cheery and soft.

“is everything okay?” jason asked, knowing that in fact nothing was okay, but he could only use a filler sentence, he didn’t have much of a heart to say anything else.

“what’s going on with you and y/n? i know you two dated, but i see the way you act around each other, you’re not over it, neither of you, and whatever this is going on with us is simply not satisfying neither me or you, so, are you cool with staying friends?” piper stated casually, without much worry on her face.

“i’m sorry pipes, it wasn’t fair to you.” jason tried apologising, but got interrupted.

“it’s fine, but she loves you, i can tell, go talk to her before it’s too late.” that was it, the awakening point, jason immediately stormed into her cabin.

“i fucked up, i’m really in love with you.” he exclaimed, and boy, did that sentence change everything.

it did.

[drabblesandsnippets]

Snippet #3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Background: Edited scene of something I wrote for a friend

Summary: All Bucky wants is to make his girlfriend’s day better.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Sexual content. Romance/fluff. Praise.

---------------------------

From the second she walks in the door, Bucky can tell things had only gotten worse in the couple of hours since they talked. He knows better than to bombard her with questions, giving her space after they share a brief hello, letting her come to him after she changes into her normal oversized shirt and sweatpants. 

He gives her a warm smile when she reappears, the sight of her never ceasing to make his heart race, even with the messy bun atop her head and the t-shirt that’s seen better days. He loves every single part of her, and his favorite moments are when he gets to see the parts of her that she only shares with him. The vulnerable moments, the small pieces of her that she hides from others, scared of their judgements. She gets to let go of all the masks with him, and it’s one of the most beautiful things he gets to witness.

Bucky can tell all she needs right now is for him to listen, without the need to offer any sort of advice, and he's more than happy to be her sounding board. He actively listens to all the silly frustrations that managed to get under her skin today, the stupid things that made her ready to pull her hair out.

By the time she’s released all the pent up feelings, she’s finally beginning to relax, but Bucky’s still not satisfied. He ignores the old-fashioned part of him that wants her to quit her job, leave all the frustration behind, and be a house wife. He blinks away the brief image of coming home to her wearing nothing but an apron, his cock twitching at the thought, and instead talks her into a massage.

It doesn’t take much convincing. Within moments, she’s laying on their bed, Bucky straddling her legs as he rubs the tension out of her back and shoulders. She loses track of time, allowing him to take care of her, happily letting all other thoughts leave her, only vaguely aware of the almost pornographic noises coming out of her.

Bucky’s far from wanting to complain though. He’s getting to touch her, make her feel better, and listen to her moan - three of his favorite things. He ignores his growing erection for now and keeps his focus on the massage, paying attention to all her sore spots while easing up on the sensitive areas of her back. He smiles at the soft sounds leaving her with each movement of his hands, suddenly feeling grateful to have her trust. 

He slowly works his hands back up to her shoulders, leaning forward slightly as he rubs the tension there, telling her, “Thank you for letting me take care of you.” There’s no need for her to speak, her little noises of appreciation more than enough to satisfy him, his hands never stopping their magical touch. She can barely remember her name at this point, let alone anything else that’s happened today, and that’s exactly how Bucky wants it.

“You’re always taking care of everyone else,” he continues, the palms of his hands moving down the center of her back, letting up on the pressure just a bit. “But, I know it’s hard to let people take care of you, so thank you.” She turns her head slightly to hear him better, but keeps her eyes closed as a slight blush colors her cheeks.

She loves being praised by him, almost as much as Bucky loves praising her, but it still makes her flustered, especially if they’re not in the middle of sex. Sometimes even then too. She can’t see it, but Bucky’s smile grows at her reaction and he changes tactics, his fingertips starting to lightly trace up her back, sending a shiver down her spine. 

“How about you let me keep taking care of you?” he asks, the tenderness of his voice matching his touch, making her heart flutter. Coherent words left her a long time ago, but she still manages to voice her consent. And the moment she does, he leans forward again, his hand sliding up to rub against the back of her neck. “I’m gonna take my time,” he tells her, his breath warm against her ear, “give you everything you need tonight.”

She’s not even sure she responds, other than with a loud moan of need as her hips lift to reach him, his words making her body pulse with pleasure. Bucky’s body reacts to her desire, his own hips grinding against her, letting her feel how hard she makes him. As much as his cock wants him to just push her pants down and take her like this - she’d be more than willing - he’s a man of his word.

With the same measured pace, his hand slips underneath her shirt, the soft touch of his fingers along her waist causing goosebumps to spread across her skin. He undresses her slowly, his lips touching every inch of skin he exposes, whispering words of praise, leaving her panting for more. When he finally turns her over onto her back, he repeats the process, taking his time to pull her sweatpants down her legs, kissing a trail to her ankles.

“I’m so proud to call you mine,” he tells her once he settles back between her legs, his eyes roaming over her flushed body. She watches as his hand reaches down, almost subconsciously, to grab his cock through his jeans, clearly trying to relieve some of the pressure. She wants to tell him he’s too overdressed, that she wants to feel more of him, but all she can do is look up at him, silently pleading for more.

There’s time for teasing, but not tonight. With a quick pull, Bucky removes his shirt and tosses it off the bed, barely giving her a chance to appreciate his body before he’s on her again, meeting her in a passionate kiss. They lose themselves in the intimate connection, their need for each other growing until they finally part and Bucky rests his forehead gently against hers, breathing heavily. “You’re so incredible,” he tells her. “You’re so strong.”

He starts peppering kisses along her skin again, across her jaw before dipping down to her throat. “Intelligent.” His kisses move to her collarbone. “Kind.” With each word, her mind starts to fully relax again, accepting the praise, her body trembling with need. And just before his mouth closes over her nipple, he reminds her, “And the hottest fucking woman I’ve ever seen.”

---------------------------

Main Masterlist

[i-cant-sing]

OK POOKIE! i saw my message went thru 🥸

i remember a while ago you were like “look at y/n with all these time period yanderes and little snippet ideas of how they act,,,” AND THEN THE LAST THING OF PART 7 IS Y/N DIDNT LOOK AT THE TIME AND JUST PRESSED THE TIME MACHINE BUTTON ,,, my theory is that ur different-time-periods-yanderes r going to make an appearance in your time traveler AU 😎 if so, ur a genius and I AM ASWELL

Also i like how crazy u made Baldwin. honestly i lowkey forgot he thot y/n was an angel and that he’s actually super smart. idk if u did that on purpose tho cos i was like “oh he’s dumb in love” w/ how you write him but then, offhandly mention how he won a war at 16 or that he genuinely believes y/n has magical powers. like ik he’s smart but i feel like ur smarter with the way you made me forget how smart he is. or i might just be forgetful ,

it kinda makes me sad that y/n didn’t get to say a genuine goodbye to sultan but honestly…she didn’t have the time to. she had to move fast. WHICH, i really liked how fast the ending was. it was BAM we find out he’s crazy. BAM wedding. BAM we run away. BAM we on a cliff. BAM WE JUMP OFF CLIFF cos tbh when u find out the person u love is crazy and has been manipulating everything around since the start u kinda just…roll with the punches until u find a way out.

i liked that Guy died. even if baldwin set up the situations to make it seem like Guy was behind it, Guy still said really infuriating things. Baldwin didn’t tell him to call us hoes. Guy called us a ho3 , that stupid bitch.

This is- this is EXACTLY how I wanted someone to react to my works. Details, reactions, everything. Come here, baby- you're my favourite person now. Let me give u a smooch🫶

There will be different time periods reader will go to now, and I have a few in mind (I am very excited for the two of them, but one more than the other but I can't write that one yet because then the less exciting one will lose its charm but godddd do I wanna rush this to my fav time period). Lol and I made a list of time periods/historical figures that had potential and idk why but I wrote down Columbus but then I looked him up and I was like... nvm.

[goldencuffs]

woke up to news of ur new snippet!!!! yay yay yay yay doing cartwheels im so excited it's insane, i love everything u have written and the fact that u r continuing to write and post is so crazy and im so grateful, i wrote this ask while doing another cartwheel

stopppppppppppp omg you're too bloody nice!!!!! 🥹😭😭😭😭😭😭

tbh im still shocked im still here but then again im not damen and laurent truly never leave my mind!!!! also i love you a lot so here is a small dumb little snippet that shows a little bit more about damen and laurent's dyanamic hehe 😋

Damen's hair was already starting to grow out; less buzz cut now, more of a tuft. It was ridiculous he made it work, especially because his curls were also coming in. One stubborn one was forming over the top of his left ear.

His silver chain glinted under the light, and the shirt he was wearing was tight. It strained against his biceps, which shifted every time he lifted his glass. His tattoos jumped with each movement too.

Laurent's mouth was dry. He swallowed a large mouthful of the scotch and then topped up.

Outside, the cicadas had come out. Laurent tilted his head to look out at the stars, thinking about Aimeric and Ancel. He couldn't believe how stupid he had been, revealing his… thing with Damen like that. He should've… denied more. Not admit it all. Maybe laugh it off, wave his hand and say pshawwww me and Damen? Maybe he should have admitted to fucking someone else--like someone from the convenience store. Maybe he should have said he was a virgin. Anything but confirm that he'd been with Damen.

Aimeric had said they were brothers. That implied trust, bond. But Laurent had a real brother--and the biggest betrayal in their life had come from him. Not all brothers were good. Not all brothers could be trusted. Sometimes all they did was lie.

"…Laurent?"

"Hmm?" Laurent turned his head to Coach.

"Remember to clean up the kitchen before you go upstairs, okay?"

Laurent blinked, more alert. "You didn't clean up while I was outside?"

He regretted asking as soon as he did; Coach stared at him, befuddled. "No, that's your job, Laurent." he said this slowly, like he was explaining it for the first time. "Remember what I said, kid? A house can only function when we all follow our assigned responsibilities. Yours are cooking and cleaning and--"

Laurent stood up. Scotch sloshed over his fingers. "Right," he said, and left.

He'd heard that lecture a thousand times. Laurent cooked and cleaned and mowed and painted. Coach paid for the dishawasher and the microwave and cared for and about the Football Guys.

The cicadas were louder in the kitchen. Laurent stood in it for a moment, alone and  still, staring at the mess on the table--bowls and pots and spoons; evidence of life.  Once upon a time, it had always been like this; now the image was foreign and pulled at Laurent's heart.

Laurent worked slowly. The scotch had been stronger than he expected. His head wasn't spinning, but he was warmer than he had been a few minutes ago. It was probably because he was unusued to it; drinking, particularly on a weeknight, wasn't something he did.

He was thinking about Damen, too. Couldn't help it. Just knowing he was so close hurt.

He'd just put the last dish into the dishwasher when Coach came by. He smelt of scotch, which was so unusual, it made Laurent pause. But he seemed sober enough, and he kissed Laurent's temple sweetly. "Love you, kid," he said, and then headed from the stairs.

A few minutes later, Damen walked into the kitchen. Laurent froze, and then realised that Damen was probably going to slip out of the alfresco, because he was an asshole who refused to use front doors.

But Damen came towards him instead. His eyes were like two coffee drops, rich and deep as he leant against the counter top and watched Laurent wipe it down.

Laurent refused to break first--even as the silence in the ktichen grew thick and gelatinous.

"So," Damen said, when the counter tops smelt like lemon. "what's with your new twink group?"

Laurent rolled his eyes. He moved onto sorting the utensils. "Don't call them that."

"Uh huh." Damen's arms crossed. "They're the reason you're ignoring me now?"

Laurent looked up and scoffed, truly taken aback. "I'm ignoring you? Funny."

Damen watched him. Laurent went back to the silverware.

He tensed when he felt Damen come up behind him. He was warm.

Laurent inhaled sharply when Damen's arm came around his waist, pulling him flush.

He smelt stronger like this. Damen's chin dropped to Laurent's neck, rubbing the side of it. It tickled and Laurent squirmed. Damen held on tighter.

"I don't like sharing you," Damen said.

[mpregplease]

Remember how the last thing I wrote wasn't angsty?

Well... This snippet is very angsty so if that's not your cup of tea, don't read it ^^

---------

A cheerful guy who comes home from college looking a little softer than usual… He's on a break, so it's normal to be soft, but his childhood friend notices that it is a lot softer. More body mass, bigger hips, and a little bit of a belly. But he moves so slowly like he's in pain all the time, his cheery attitude has dimmed immensely, and while he tries to be cheery, there is that sad look in his eyes when he thinks no one is looking.

"You look well," The childhood friend says. "A little too well… You been eating alright?"

The college student tries to brush it off with a smile. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Oh, I've been eating fine. Just… Just tired from all the stress, y'know?"

"You've been stress eating?" The childhood friend asks, a little sceptical. It doesn't sound like him…

"Yeah… For months, I guess." He says, this time not smiling. A hand comes down to touch his abdomen, but it's quickly gone again. He looks embarrassed.

"You should see a doctor. It doesn't seem healthy, this weight gain, and you seem a little grey around the gills-"

"It's fine. It'll go away on it's own." The college student cuts him off curtly, then moves to leave, the pain in his body seeming to get worse. He groans out loud, a hand reaching to his abdomen again, holding it there until he can kinda stand upright again.

"Dude, you're in pain! I'm calling an ambulance-" The childhood friends says, but once again the college student cuts him off with an angry outburst.

"Don't you get it?! I just gave birth!"

It shocks the friend into silence. He doesn't know how to continue.

"I was pregnant and gave birth… And then I gave her up for adoption." He says as he ends on a sob. His hands go back down to his abdomen. He's shaking slightly.

"You… Got pregnant? By whom??" But the childhood friend already knows that he was the one who got his friend pregnant because of that one night they spent together 9-ish months ago.

"Doesn't matter. She's gone."

"Gone?" The friend inquires, but the college student just shakes his head.

"I gave her up for adoption. I couldn't care for her, couldn't do anything right… So they suggested that I gave her away."

Just the thought of not being able to see the child he helped create was enough to make the childhood friend angry. "You didn't think to involve me?!"

"You're younger than I am. You wouldn't stand a chance with a baby."

This makes the friend even more angry. "You're not kidding me, are you?"

It's at that moment that the college student takes his friend's hand and movies it to his chest. He can feel that it's fuller, and it might even be leaking a little. Soon the college student's shirt is wet from milk, the college student looking like he's moments away from a heartbreak. Maybe he's already had it.

"I just gave birth 4 days ago. They've been aching all the time since, but I can't give it to her. I can't do anything for her."

He begins to get misty eyed, and soon the breasts isn't the only thing that's spilling over.

"Would you ever let me see her?" The childhood friend finally asks, to which the college students says:

"It's impossible to find her again. She's gone."

He's crying again, this time silently but his breath hitching.

"I will find her. I promise I will."

This only makes the college friend sob even more, but soon he is embraced by his childhood friend who comforts him, whispering the promise in his ear again and again.

The end :3

[hannah-heartstrings]

It's WIP Wednesday Once Again

Tagged by @inkysqueed and @thequeenofthewinter, who I tag back! :D Along with @babyblueetbaemonster @druidx @katastronoot @the-sunlit-earth and anyone who wants to be.

When I posted the year old snow prompt snippet two weeks ago, I said that I originally thought it needed an intro.

I did write one I just never figured out how to get them from point A to point B (just to decide I didn't need to a year later XD) But while looking at the intro again, ideas for how to edit it popped in my head, and the next thing I knew, I had a new ficlet. (Oh writing XD)

So here's the original intro I'm now reworking, and then some notes about my edits below the cut:

            The sky was a white sheet of fog, purple tiled spires standing out against it. Flecks of snow drifted down into the streets.             A gust of wind sent some flecks swirling and blowing down the street across Lecrinn’s face. She laughed a little as she brushed the snow from her brown skin and hair. As she walked, she looked over the snow shimmering in the sunlight. “The snow’s so pretty I almost forget I hate to be cold,” she leaned more into Garrus’s arm.             “Do you want to go in?”             “Not yet.”

I like "snow shimmering in the sunlight" but to me it evokes the image of an empty field of snow, which isn't where they are. XD I think I should describe the town a little more. I remember thinking that when I wrote it, but at the time, writing felt like mental gymnastics, which is why I never finished this. XD

I feel like the back to back sentences about the flecks of snow should be the same paragraph.

I don't know how I only just now noticed that if the sky's that foggy, it isn't sunny. 😅 Gotta go add that to my edits now. XD

While rereading it, I don't know why, but I thought Garrus's dialogue at the end should be "we're almost there" instead, which led me to wonder what "there" was, and the ficlet just went from there. XD

And if it's one or the other, I think the sparkling snow fits the scene better than the sheet of fog.

Which means the fic is getting further and further from actually looking like this snippet. XD

And I can't wait to show it to you guys. It's small but pure sugar, like a Christmas cookie. XD

Now I just gotta finish baking it. 😅

[thedeviltohisangel]

That cliffhanger!!! Here for the idea that Bucky tries to give Cass his rations and then she sneaks rations back into his food that he thinks he's going insane and then realizes it's her

in relation to this blurb i wrote a little while ago

also continued here

prompt a little different but more or less the same...

The bowl in front of her looked like it was brown water but she hoped it was broth. It was better than the moldy bread they had thrown at her while they'd quarantined her away from the rest of the camp. At least this had a chunk of unidentified protein floating in it. There was retching in the corner as she continued to just stare at it.

"Eat it. You'll need the protein," John ordered as he tucked into his own bowl. Cass knew she was capable of stomaching whatever it was. She just needed to get the first bite out of the way. He chewed slowly as he observed his wife out of the corner of his eye. Her wounds were healing but slowly. There was very little color to her cheeks. Maybe a bit of dried blood in her hair if he looked hard enough. "Eat." This order was pointed at her. He was still only speaking to her in short snippets.

"I will. Just need to convince myself first." With a steadying breath, she brought the hunk of meat to her mouth and nearly swallowed it whole before quickly tipping the bowl down her throat to wash it away.

"Fuck, Cass," Hambone said as he watched in awe.

"That was incredible," Benny echoed with his eye wide in adoration.

"Thank you, gentleman, I-" She looked down where another piece of meat had appeared in her bowl. John was already up and moving to his bed, but she knew where it had come from. She wanted to argue. Force him to eat it knowing he needed it more. He was bigger and had more muscle to power. But he barely wanted to look at her. Let alone speak to her. Let alone hear her voice argue back at him. She ate it quietly. He watched to make sure.

-

John was the last to wake up the next morning, Cass outside watching the boys work and scratching some kind of code into a tree stump. He had wanted to ask her about it but then remembered he wasn't speaking to her. The early morning, when he could watch her out the window with the privacy of an empty room, was the only time he let his guard down. The only time he allowed himself to admire her. Remind himself that he was the luckiest man in the entire world that this beautiful, intelligent, tenacious woman was his wife. That she loved him fiercely right back. So fiercely she would put herself here. So fiercely she desired to spend her last moments with him even if it was in hell.

Dinner was the same. Cass choked her food down in a gulp or two and John slipped a bit of his own when she wasn't looking. He didn't say anything. Neither did she.

the next time mail came, his mood soured infinitely. The letters from Cass shoved in a box under his bed while she watched him with a sad look. He didn't open them but she was grateful he didn't rip them either. It was the unmarked box that had him curious.

"What's that, Bucky?" Crank asked as they all huddled around the table to look at it.

"Dunno. There's no address anywhere on it," he mused as he slid the paper loose and opened it up. Inside where assorted packs of nuts. A container of peanut butter. A small portion of jerky.

All the men were muttering about the mystery package of food. Salivating at the contents. Told John he must have a guardian angel.

"Eat it," came her feminine voice from the back of the room. "You'll need the protein." One look, he allowed himself on look, and he knew she was responsible. Couldn't even imagine what she had offered the guards in return for the goods. Didn't want to ask for fear of knowing the horrible truth.

"Cass," how sweet her name sounded falling from his lips, "this is..." He didn't know what to say. Not after the distance he had forced between them in the name of keeping her safe. She stopped by him on her way to her bunk. Rested a tentative hand on his shoulder and goosebumps erupted across her skin at the contact.

"This only works if we both make it."

[onebraincellfan]

ramblings about outlander

I saw people complain a lot about the Ian and Rachel's wedding night, and I must admit I also didn't really need to see it, but I do like them as a couple in the books. Actually their first night in the books made sense to me. I mean I did laugh, because, again, a Fraser found himself a healing woman who is bold in bed. And some parts of it were kinda hot, not gonna lie. Also, he really did spent a lot of time with Jamie and Claire camping and they were intimate in those times, while he pretended to be asleep. There is this moment in the book that I wish I could erase from my head where he is laying in their camp, hearing them make love and then proceeds to do his buisness, while contemplating whether to think of Geilis or Brianna. Like I don't kink shame but bruh.💀

About the 7x15 episode: I really liked the way they weaved the different JamieClaire conversations from differents parts of the books. Missed the grimy miserable surroundings. Everyone looked too tidy and put together. To quote Jamie here, "braided to be seemly". Total mess with Brianna's story, I roughly remembered what was going on and still struggled to follow "wait, she's where now? Lallibroch? why? and they are going where?.." but the most important part I suppose that they will get to where they need to and reunite with Roger. And of course, gut ripping performances at the end. Claire's shallow breathing through pain and clenched teeth, Jamie's desperation and the way he was trembling, afraid to touch her. His writing on the poor chap's back, not sure why they chose to get rid of his shirt, maybe it was too challenging to write on a shirt. I think it was on a shirt in the book, I did go back and it said "wrote on his white back" which I assumed was a shirt, but maybe it wasn't? Anyway, it was a very strong image in both cases.

Another rambling I've got to get out is about all the teasers from starz, for next episodes or for the second half of season 7. I hate 'em. Yes, I get that the goal of these was to get people to watch, but how rediculous was that snippet they released some time ago where they include Claire's little "do that again" and manipulate the scene WE ALREADY WATCHED to appear as if Jamie says "I want you. Badly" which is clearly edited because he said "He wants you. Badly" talking about Tom Christy. 🙄 Unless of course he somehow gets to say that in a hot love scene the next episode, in which case I will eat my socks and salt them well first and put it on tiktok.

[whayjhey]

For the WIP game, tell me about the actor Anakin AU?😇😇

Hello! I wrote a silly AU with actor!Anakin a while back, which centers around the idea of Anakin getting the role for AOTC and starring alongside Padmé (their Star Wars characters are aptly named Hayden and Natalie in this universe lol). It's heavily inspired by how Hayden Christensen got the role of Anakin irl. Here are some snippets from a super, super rough draft:

"Yoooo." Kitster's grin matched his. "Imagine getting this role, man! It's mother-kriffing Star Wars! This is huge." "Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Anakin said, but deep down he was already getting giddy at the possibilities. "I still have to do this screen test." But his roommate was already doing the daydreaming for him. "You'd get to be as big as Qui-Gon! Remember? He was in that new one a few years ago." As if Anakin could forget. He was a huge Star Wars nerd. They'd been swinging pretend lightsabers in Kitster's backyard since they were little kids. "In Phantom, yeah." "Bet you're glad I was a shitty Santa Clause back in 'tooine, huh? Gave you the spotlight and everything." "I would've shined even without your shitty Santa." "If you don't include me in your acceptance speeches, you'd better start sleeping with your eyes open." "I haven't gotten the role yet, man," Anakin chuckled, but his heart warmed at his friend’s support. Kitster was ever supportive: "I've got a good feeling about this." There was a new tinge of excitement in their small apartment that night. Kitster turned his attention back to the boiling pot in front of him, and Anakin was about to grab his laptop from his room when- "Wait,” Kitster said. “Didn't Padmé Amidala play Natalie in Phantom?" Anakin's heart stopped. He might as well have died right then and there. "Duuuuuuude," Kitster guffawed at the way Anakin's jaw dropped. "Now you really have to get this role."

And here's him doing a screen test with Padmé:

And then there she was. Padmé Amidala in the flesh, sitting on the dark couch in front of him. Anakin wasn't sure if he was more nervous about the screen test itself or about meeting her for the first time. He briefly remembered Hayden's first words to Natalie in the first film: "Are you an angel?" Padmé had played a young Natalie then, but Anakin couldn't help but agree; she did, in fact, look like an angel. (He could almost see Kitster rolling his eyes at him. "You're such a stupid sap," he would probably say.) "Welcome, Anakin!" A woman he'd later come to know as Satine brought him out of his reverie. "Congratulations for making it into the short list for Hayden. This is Padmé Amidala, who plays our Natalie. I'm sure you read through the script we sent you?" Before Anakin could respond, Padmé surprised him by speaking. "Oh, I know you!" She said. Anakin's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. "I recognize you from The Bounty Hunter! It’s one of my favorite shows. You were in it, weren't you?" A small blush crept onto Anakin's cheeks. He'd been recognized by a few people before, sure, but he wasn't that big of an actor yet to warrant frequent attention. The fact that the Padmé Amidala knew who he was and she remembered him for a small role and she watched some of his work- "I was," Anakin replied before his brain could spiral. "I was fourteen then." Padmé gave him a teasing grin. He wasn’t sure if she was amused by how nervous he looked.  "My goodness, you've grown!" "So have you," Anakin said before he could stop himself. The blush on his cheeks grew even redder. "Grown more beautiful, I mean. Well, uh-" Anakin dude what are you saying??? "For a- for an actress, I mean." Padmé giggled. Anakin wanted to die. Behind them, Satine chuckled at the interaction. Anakin swore someone else behind them guffawed. (His stupid words eventually made it into his dialogue in the film. Satine said it captured Hayden's awkwardness and boyhood crush on Natalie perfectly.)

Thank you for the ask! <3

[dendrochilums]

little murderbot fic snippet I wrote inspired by the discord a while ago! it appears the cracker wrapper incident from rogue protocol left some lasting damage...

"Oh SecUnit! You're early!"

To be honest, Ratthi hadn't actually expected SecUnit to show up, but he was still pleasantly surprised to see it here. Since Gurathin's apartment on the station was too small for him to host his own birthday party, Ratthi had volunteered his own for the occasion. SecUnit had returned from its latest trip with the Perihelion quite recently, and Ratthi had figured that it would still be working on recharging its limited social battery, and unwilling to subject itself to even the small crowd that would be here. He gestured with an enthusiasm he hoped it would pick up on and said, "Come on in!"

SecUnit didn't reply verbally, but it sent an acknowledging ping to Ratthi's interface as it marched past him, followed by a small flock of its surveillance drones.

"I'm still getting some things ready in the kitchen, but feel free to make yourself at home," he called after it. SecUnit's idea of making itself at home involved more patrolling and hazard assessments than the average person's, but it was nice to see it feel comfortable here, in its own way. Ratthi hoped that the way he had arranged the decorations this time wouldn't get him another written notice about unsafe obstructions to the automated fire suppression system.

He closed the door, making a point to lock it behind him, and followed SecUnit down the hallway and into the kitchen, where he found it standing completely motionless, staring at his sink wearing the most appalled expression he could ever remember seeing on its face.

"SecUnit?" he asked. "...You okay?"

"There's a cracker wrapper in your sink," it said, pointing a finger at the offending wrapper. Its voice was flat, a striking contrast to its face, which now looked like it had when Ratthi told it that the newest season of Sanctuary Moon had been kind of boring.

Ratthi was too afraid to ask what kind of horrible security hazard could be caused by a stray cracker wrapper, but he carefully reached past SecUnit and fished the wrapper out of the sink and put it in the waste bin.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't know you were so tidy," he said, flashing a smile towards its shoulder. "I'll get things straightened up before the party starts, don't worry."

SecUnit was apparently too shaken to even acknowledge this. It kept its eyes focused on the now empty sink, which Ratthi quickly checked himself just to make sure there wasn't some insanely poisonous spider or something hiding there. Nope, nothing but some crumbs that he didn't think deserved this kind of horror.

The silence stretched on awkwardly. Ratthi broke it to say, "I'm just gonna--"

"I need to go check the perimeter. I'll be back soon," it interrupted, and it was out of the room before Ratthi could muster more than "Okay?" as a response.

Well, he supposed that everyone had their own eccentricities.

[faytelumos]

A Month of Kisses, #5

You know what, it has been such a long time since I wrote a kissing scene.

@justalittleminishnamedmouse, @mr-orion, @rfallfish, @tildeathiwillwrite, @thelazywitchphotographer

Also @those-damn-snippets because I think you might enjoy?

allergens: spicy

This might be in the top 3 spiciest things I've posted. Maybe. Whoops. (not sorry)

---

Henchman watched Supervillain work, still wearing the little, conical party hat from hours earlier. "My first birthday!" it read. A fun little joke for a party of two. A sweet celebration of a year of service.

Henchman watched Supervillain pour over maps, schematics, finances, reports. Whatever it was she was doing now. Planning the next move. Preparing for the next step.

A year ago, Henchman had submitted her pathetic little resumé and interviewed via phonecall in a public park (by far the strangest interview she'd ever had). She started that same day, and looking back on it now, she better understood the bizarreness of that first meeting. Of the way Supervillain got Henchman disoriented and vulnerable in some unfamiliar alley before exposing herself to view. Testing her tolerance before letting her in.

Supervillain had been terrifying in that moment, boxing Henchman into a dead end, silhouetted by the afternoon sun. She had been a goddess. A nightmare. A force of nature. Henchman's vision of the job changed then from processing inventory orders to dragging bodies into dumpsters. And then two hours later, she was calling a dry cleaner and disputing an outrageous charge.

A year. How had they only known each other for a year? Henchman couldn't even imagine what her day would be like now without Supervillain. It was like trying to remember how she lived without a phone. Every morning she made breakfast for the two of them, then started making calls and arrangements. Every night they sat down to dinner, talking about all of the things that had moved and happened during the day. Supervillain moved around her all the while between, making motions and pulling strings, orbiting like some personal Jupiter caught up in Henchman's tiny gravity. Sometimes, there was an operation, and Henchman paced anxiously at their little base, their little home, praying and praying that Hero or Superhero didn't notice. Didn't try to intervene. Didn't leave Supervillain in a broken mess, calling Henchman to come get her, to scoop her limp, shimmering, dripping body into the back seat of their beat-up sedan.

Yes. Looking back on it now, even after such a short amount of time, Henchman had been completely smitten. She had fought the man on the other end of that phone like she was some kind of knight raising a sword at a dragon. She smiled at the memory now, even stifled a chuckle, as Supervillain scribbled something on a sheet of paper.

Henchman watched Supervillain now. Her skin was damp with her concentration. If she wasn't focused enough on her shape, she would always seem to melt a little but. Like ice cream. Just enough to soak the clothes she was wearing and the seat or the bed she was on, but not enough to fall apart. Sometimes, it was cute. Sometimes, it was terrifying.

It had been a long year. A long year of getting to know Supervillain. Of learning her. Of figuring out her needs and learning to anticipate them. Realizing why Henchman was doing the kind of work she was doing. Why she was always talking to the dry cleaner or the internet company, why she was the one who talked during their back alley deals, why she was the one who delivered letters and thank-you cards. Supervillain was powerful. In a fight, she was terrifying, a whirlwind, a natural disaster made flesh. But she was also scared. Scared of people. Scared of rejection. Scared of loneliness.

Henchman thumbed the elastic strap of her party hat where it crossed under her jaw. Supervillain had gotten her a cake and everything. Those watery lips of hers, dark and full, had pulled into the biggest smile Henchman had ever seen. Henchman couldn't be sure, even now. But it seemed to her that there was some amount of fear that Supervillain was always holding that had slipped away, just for the party.

Watching her now, maybe it was there again. Some underlying anxiety. Some twinge of a secret terror. They had been together a year, and yet there was still some part of Supervillain that thought Henchman… didn't want to stay? Didn't want to be here? Was afraid of her?

"My first birthday!" That's what her hat said. She wondered for the first time if any of Supervillain's other relationships, friendly or otherwise, had lasted this long. "My first birthday!" "My first friend!"

…What about, "My first love!"

Supervillain was different. Henchman couldn't read her like she read other people, not exactly. But there had been that underscoring tenderness and affection at the party that had made Henchman cry. That had made her glad it was just the two of them. That had made her wish this day wouldn't end.

Maybe Supervillain did think Henchman might still leave.

So maybe… maybe Henchman should let Supervillain know why that wasn't going to happen.

She stepped forward. Walked quietly toward the desk. Supervillain looked up, with all of her graceful long lines and angles. The water on her skin shimmered in the warm overhead light. Henchman came to a stop by her chair.

"So," she said. Supervillain watched her. She reached up and tapped her nail against the party hat. "It's still my birthday." Supervillain smiled.

"I suppose that it is," she chuckled. Henchman smiled back.

"I was hoping…" She blushed. A year ago, she wouldn't have had the guts for this. "I was hoping for a birthday favor." Supervillain turned to face her, a bit more serious now.

"Name it," she commanded gently. Henchman blushed a little more, but she didn't look away.

"I was hoping… and, you can say no, I promise. But. I was hoping… for… a birthday, um, kiss."

Supervillain's eyes widened. A drop of water ran from her temple down to her jaw and over her throat.

"You can say no," Henchman assured her. Supervillain opened and closed her mouth, a little bit like a stunned fish.

"Yes," she whispered, so soft and so… delicate, that Henchman almost didn't hear it. Something in her chest flinched at the excited thrill that flared through her.

For a moment, Henchman was going to ask if she was sure. But the wide look in her eyes, the trio of water drops that ran down her face, and the way her eyebrows furrowed in that same way they always did when Supervillain was afraid she was asking for too much, answered Henchman's question for her.

Henchman was suddenly shaking a little as she reached forward, resting a hand on Supervillain's wet shoulder. She leaned in, and Supervillain tilted her head up, closing her eyes. Henchman smiled, giddy and pleased, and kissed her lips to Supervillain's.

Supervillain was warm, even as her shirt got wetter in Henchman's hand. Her lips were soft, and they still tasted a little bit like frosting. Henchman's heart was thumping in her chest, and she could hear Supervillain breathing heavier, could feel it across her lips. Henchman leaned in a little more, tipping Supervillain's head back just a little further, and tilted her head to the side. She kissed Supervillain slightly harder, cupped her other hand to the side of Supervillain's wet neck, felt her pulse strong and quick through Supervillain's veins. Henchman huffed, or maybe it was more like a sigh, something not the least bit decent or polite in her chest flashing its claws.

Henchman held Supervillain tighter, pulling back just long enough to suck in a deep breath, then kissed her harder. Supervillain hummed, or maybe moaned, and a wet hand was suddenly on the top of Henchman's shoulder, fingertips pulling her closer as Supervillain's breaths turned raspy. Henchman might have smiled normally, might have laughed to herself at the way Supervillain was still trying not to impose. Even as her skin turned hot and sodden, even as her heart raced and her chest heaved, she was still scared to ask too much. Still scared, maybe, of rejection.

Henchman's very thoughts darkened, shooting down two paths. On the one hand, she suddenly wanted to give Supervillain the whole world, beaten and subjugated and bowing down to her glorious, watery visage, never to refuse her again. On the other, she wanted to pull Supervillain into her chest, into her very body, so Supervillain could see herself through Henchman's eyes and know that she could never, ever reject her.

Henchman dipped her tongue experimentally between Supervillain's lips, and she shuddered and opened her mouth. Henchman groaned, sliding her tongue in along Supervillain's, fumbling to get herself into Supervillain's lap, swiping the party hat back to slacken the string under her jaw.

Supervillain's pants and the chair both squelched, warm, watery liquid soaking into Henchman's clothes every last place she pressed against her. Henchman cupped Supervillain's jaw with both hands, holding her like she was made of spun glass even as she kissed her breathless. Supervillain pulled away suddenly, gasping hoarsely for air, and Henchman blinked open her eyes just long enough to catch the long, graceful lines of her throat, water running over her skin in rivulets. Those claws in Henchman's chest flashed again, and a burning curiosity overwhelmed her, and she bent down and dragged her tongue up the swell of Supervillain's throat.

As Supervillain gasped aloud, her chest heaving, her body shaking, Henchman marveled at the salty-sweet taste of her. Even here, she tasted faintly like the birthday cake they'd shared. Interesting. How far did this go?

Supervillain swallowed thickly, and Henchman noticed with alarm the wet sound of her breaths. All at once, she seemed to slam back down into her body, realizing what she was doing. That she had invited herself onto her boss' lap, into her boss' mouth, that Supervillain's hands were shaking on her waist, that this was unprofessional, that she might love Supervillain, but that this was a job, this house was their workplace—

"I'm so sorry," Henchman gasped, pulling away—

Supervillain's hands turned into stone, pressing into Henchman's sides and back, immobilizing her. A thrill raced up Henchman's body so fiercely it nearly knocked the wind completely out of her. When Supervillain's grip softened again, Henchman didn't go anywhere. She breathlessly watched Supervillain shake her head, her jaw working, but all that came out were watery gasps and whimpers. Supervillain's body seemed to become wetter still, like she was thinking very hard about something, and Henchman realized she was trying to talk.

Henchman… had kissed her senseless.

Those claws flashed again. Henchman watched Supervillain's throat work, and this time, when she leaned in and licked, long and with panting breaths over wet skin, drawing a shiver and a whine up and out of Supervillain's throat, she was in complete possession of herself. She did it again, and the sound Supervillain made was so high, so thready, that those claws almost took control again. Maybe they did. Because Henchman started to wonder just how much like a puddle Supervillain could be. And just how many places Henchman could taste sugar on her.

[hypnotisedfireflies]

I miss Lachie! I specifically miss Tess and Lachie, their family friendship warms my heart every time. Would you perhaps consider giving us a snippet of the two of them? Perhaps a late night conversation while they’re camping out on their way towards Jackson? (I’m desperate to hear anything more about their road trip)

(Also will Lachie make any appearances in IO???)

Hi anon! Thank you for your ask (and giving me the chance to pop back into Driftersverse!)

I don't think Lachie will be appearing in IO. I tend to keep the OCs to their respective universes, DD/SQ, IO, Charro, etc. But who knows??

Hope you like this little ficlet. It's set during the events of TLOU while Ellie and Joel are off Ellieing and Joeling and Tess is making the trip across country with Lachie. This is as they begin to reconnect after the Firefly crew has perished, and Lachie is experiencing the earliest trouble with his lungs that later leads to something worse.

Autumn, 2023 Wisconsin.

In Little Hope, Wisconsin, Lachie did something that he hadn’t done in years.

Dear Mum, Dad and Col.

Lachlan Maynard had penned letters on scraps of paper up and down the USA and posted them in every undamaged mailbox he could find.  He was very careful to address them neatly and correctly.  If everything got back on track – one day, eventually – those letters might make their way home.  Somebody had to empty the mailboxes eventually, right?  And when that happened – if, if that happened – then Lachie wanted that chance of some small piece of him finding his way home, even if he was long-dead and nobody remembered his name anymore.

Some time ago – when exactly, who knew – Lachie had stopped.  The hope that those letters might one day find their way across the ocean had not dwindled (however increasingly unlikely it seemed) but there were fewer things to say.  Sometimes, he didn’t really want his family to know what he’d done.  It was increasingly difficult to explain or justify the confusing nature of the Firefly cause, which sometimes seemed so righteous and other times seemed like a poorly organised terrorist chapter. 

There just wasn’t much he wanted to write home about anymore.

But on this bright, golden autumn day in Little Hope, Lachie felt the urge tickling his fingers once again.  He dug around until he found a pencil.  Lachie sharpened it carefully with his smallest knife and lifted the shavings to his nose.  He breathed them in.  Fresh, new pencils!  His cousin, Shannon, had a box of Derwents that she only used for special occasions.  Nobody else was allowed to use them, but sometimes Lachie liked to lift up the tin lid and have a good, long sniff. 

I am in Wisconsin, he wrote.

“Lachlan.”

He looked up.  He was sitting on the bonnet of the truck to soak up the sunshine.  Tess only called him by his full name when she really wanted his attention.  He looked right and saw her standing against the vibrant backdrop of autumn leaves.  Many were still doggedly clinging to their branches like they could outlast winter.  Lachie could feel its cold, deadly little talons digging deeper into every day.  It made him cough in the mornings.

“Everything okay?”  Lachie pined the paper to his thigh with the side of his hand.  The wind buffeted up a little whirlwind of dry, crackling leaves.

“Your … friend,” she said with as much tact as he could expect, “has a much warmer jacket than mine.  I’m gonna take it.  I just wanted to … tell you before I did it.”

“Oh.”

Lachie glanced at the low ditch on the side of the road where Toni lay.   She’d fallen and suffered a terrible gash to her leg the day before, and had died in the back of the truck during the night.  Catastrophic blood loss.  Lachie used to think Toni was all right, but Toni hadn’t liked Tess, and Toni had made it clear – loudly and often – that Tess would be easier to transport with her vitals preserved in jars.  Dev (before he got himself ripped up by two clickers) told Lachie Toni’s prejudice was rooted in fear, and she was convinced Tess would turn eventually.  Some of the others were, too.   Toni also wanted Tess on reduced rations, and she wanted her restrained at all times. 

Tess gained her full freedom when the numbers of their team dwindled so pitifully that they desperately needed the extra, free hands.  Toni mouthed off only once more after that.  Tess decked her with two hard, savage hits, breaking the other woman’s nose.  The others just looked on – Toni had said some shit, after all.  And Lachie grinned as he gathered up some supplies to treat the injury.  He suddenly felt just that little bit safer.

Tess never had held back.

“I’ll help you,” he suggested.

Lachie jammed the paper in his pocket and pencil behind his ear.  He followed Tess to the ditch and helped skin the thick, fleece-lined jacket down Toni’s arms. 

“You want her boots?”

Tess considered it.  “No, they’re too small for me.”

“Let’s take her jumper too, just in case.”

“Jumper,” Tess repeated, grinning at him.

“You know what I mean.”

“What happened to your accent?”

“It has its moments.”

They completed the grisly task of stripping Toni for the last of her worth and then covered her body with leaves.  The ground wasn’t too hard yet.  They could bury her.  But Lachie didn’t see the point in going to that effort.  They needed to conserve their calories.  And Little Hope was a nice enough place in the world to become bird food.  Toni could do worse.

“Guess that makes you two even for the hard time she gave you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tess muttered, shedding her own jacket and dressing in Toni’s.  She emptied the pockets of meaningless trinkets, then turned up the collar.  “Thanks for making that easy.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I know she was your friend so … I’m sorry.”

Lachie squinted as another squall twisted a pile of leaves up into a new dance.  “It doesn’t matter.”

The breeze lifted Tess’s hair.   She had long, silver strands throughout now.  It was still kind of hard for Lachie to believe she was really standing there, really alive.  He’d never had any doubt that she’d made it through the years – if anyone could, it was her – but the fact that their paths had crossed again was a miracle he couldn’t overlook.  It was almost more incredible than her surviving becoming infected, for fuck’s sake.

“We should make camp,” Lachie suggested.  “I reckon we’ve come far enough today.”

Tess was scanning the handful of crumbling old buildings.  This must have been a charming little town, once.  There was next to nothing here, but it had a postcard-selling vibe. 

“You feel up to trying a building or two?”

“Sure.” Lachie shrugged.  “What are we looking for?”

“I want to get you out of the cold, for starters,” Tess said, already pulling out her handgun and checking the load.  “The coughing in the morning’s getting worse.”

“Nah, that’s just – yeah, nah, that’s nothing,” Lachie tried to wave it off.  “That’s just – I had asthma kind of bad when I was a kid and sometimes it acts up a bit, that’s all.”

“Well, the cold can’t be helping.  Let’s find something with a bit more shelter tonight, okay?”

He was kind of stoked that she gave a shit.  Tess had looked out for him when they were in Indy, too.  He was definitely just an afterthought behind Joel and Tommy and Rachel, but the fact that she’d given a damn at all had meant something to him then, and it still did now.  And well – hey.  It was probably just strategy on her part.  Two of them stood a better chance of making it cross country than one alone.  But then she met his gaze and he recognised a softness entirely separate to survival. 

“Okay?” 

Lachie nodded.  “Yeah, okay.”

“Let’s try that one first.”

“You’re the boss.”

Tess, who had already turned away, stiffened.  Lachie looked on ahead.  Had she seen something?  And then Tess snapped the cartridge into place and plowed on ahead to the building.

“Come on, move.”

The town had been abandoned by living, dead and infected for a very, very long time.  The general store had been turned over of absolutely everything of value and there was a single, crumpled human who had perished at some phase of infection.  They were almost skeletal, their body and ragged clothing ruptured by powdery, dry fungal plates. 

At the back of the general store was a room claimed by the sky.  Half the roof was missing.  Tess and Lachie built their fire here, where the smoke could pour up into the air, and the walls around them would provide some warmth against the coming night.  Lachie pulled out two FEDRA-issued dinner ration packs.  The grade was excellent.

“Do you want Butter Chicken or Beef Ragu?”

“Have we got any of the Chicken Italiano left?”

“Nope.”

“Ragu, then.”

They prepared the meal packets in boiling water and ate inside their sleeping bags on two sides of the fire.  Tess had been right.  He felt warmer with the wall against his back, and there was no wind in the old structure, save that which whistled through the cracks.

“You know what really pisses me off about these?”  Tess said, poking around her bag with a fork.

“That they’re better than what ration cards could buy?”

“Yes,” she answered, sounding mildly annoyed that he guessed right. “The shit we used to eat in Boston sometimes, you know?  We knew what they were feeding the soldiers was better than what we got, but this is something else.”

Always we.  We did this, we did that.  Tess couldn’t name Joel, but he was always moving in and out of the conversation. 

“Fireflies didn’t have this stuff most of the time either,” Lachie admitted.  “Think we were eating better than most civilians though, if you were stationed outside the zones, that is.”

“Like you were.”

“Yeah, like I was.  Funny when you think we were only a few miles apart for years.”

Tess didn't respond.

“Anyway,” Lachie continued.  “Fireflies were raiding stuff all the time, but when they got their hands on premium rations like these, they stockpiled them for the big ticket events.”

“Like a cross-country trek?”

“Yeah. Build up the strength, that sort of thing. Speaking of.  We should reach that Firefly supply cache tomorrow, all things going well.”

“White Earth Reservation?”

“Yeah?” Lachie shot her a suspicious glance. “How'd you know that?”

“I've been listening. My ears weren't handcuffed.”

“This is gonna be awkward for awhile, isn't it?”

“Till the day you die, Lachlan.”

He coughed softly and set his meal aside. They'd argued about this many times already:  he'd plead his sorry case and she'd stonily stared him down.

“White Earth Reservation,” he confirmed, pulling out a map.  He held it up to Tess and followed a general route along the top of the country with his finger.  “So we’re … like … hereabouts.  We come up north into Minnesota – avoid Minneapolis, I’ve heard shit from there that’d make your hair curl – and come at the Reservation this way.”

Tess was studying the map with great interest, so he passed it into her custody. “Is anyone stationed there?”

“Supposed to have been deserted for a few years. Unless they sent someone up there from the east, I dunno. Seems unlikely, though. So yeah, nah. We'll scoop in and grab the gear, then go down through the Dakotas.”

“To Salt Lake City?”

Lachie held his breath while he calculated his answer. He sighed and picked up his chicken. That had been the original mission. Evacuate Massachusetts, empty the final Firefly caches cross country and regroup with the dwindling remnants of the cause out west. Deliver the subject - Tess - to Salt Lake City for further study.

There was nothing in that mandate about locating Tommy Miller out in whoop-whoop Wyoming or reuniting the subject with her spiritual husband.

“Maybe after,” Lachie mumbled around a mouthful of rations. “See if that dickhead Tommo’s all right first, maybe.”

“How… how was he last time you saw him?”

“I didn't know there was a problem till he fucked off without saying goodbye. I knew he wasn't happy but … shit, is anybody? You really think he's in trouble?”

“Maybe.”

“This trip was really for Joel, huh? He needed to know what was what.”

“It was for us both,” Tess quietly answered. “I don't know if we ever meant to stay so long.”

“In Boston?”

“We had an apartment,” she continued, eyes on the fire. “Living every day in a fucked up dollhouse for thirteen years.”

“A lifetime.”

“A parody.”

“Why didn't you leave?”

“Go where?”

“I dunno. Tommo said you'd come from some place up in the mountains. South? Could've gone back, tried for it. If anyone could've made it, it was you two.”

Tess shook her head slightly. “Bit past happy endings by then, Lachie.”

“Well,” he finished his meal. “Guess it's a good thing it's now. Hey Tess? Can do shitloads with now.”

“You're still painfully optimistic.”

He laughed a little. Sure. It was easy to have hope in and for other people. The heat was off.

He waited until Tess was asleep before digging out his letter again. He deliberated over the cordial lines and wondered what he could add. So deep in concentration was he that the bottom of the page caught on an ember and smoked. He swore softly and smothered both flame and another coughing fit.

Going to Yellowstone.

He didn't write any more until the following morning. Tess helped him sit up as a more aggressive spate of coughs woke him.

“This is asthma?” She asked, passing a flask of water.

“Woodsmoke doesn't do me any favours,” he managed, rubbing his watery eyes.

Tess didn't seem convinced. She did most of the packing up and loading while Lachie got himself together.

“I'll drive,” Tess announced.

“Yeah, no worries.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah, just give me a sec.”

Lachie looked down at his measly letter. He glanced at Tess, who was circling the truck and checking the tyres.

Catching up with some old mates.

He pushed the letter into a mailbox as Tess turned the ignition over.

[yuri-is-online]

Hi hi! Welcome back! I hope you're doing okay after spending so long on the grind.

So I had a though regarding the Nightmare Before Christmas event. Since its going to be similar to the Stitch summer event, given the huge breadth of the roster for the event, how do you think a spooky confession would go? Because if it happens like the Stitch event where everyone loses their memories after leaving, what would happen after that? (Also, pour one out for Riddle and Azul getting book-napped. AGAIN).

Also, speaking of Riddle, when will his Yutu get his own post? Please don't take this as me demanding a post about the little rabbit. But the snippets can only sustain for so long!

Also also: I'M SO SORRY FOR INDIRECTLY SCARING YOU WITH CASSETTE BEASTS I DIDN'T MEAN TO!

Keep up the good work! Can't wait to see what you come up with next!

-The anon who adores Riddle and Azul

HELOO!!!!!! No worries about the Cassette Beasts scare it's a really good game! I have been having a lot of fun with it! I bought it and Moonstone Island forever ago so when I was thinking about your ask I was like "well why not get my money's worth?" I decided I want to 100% it so that's going on the back burner while I focus on this ask box.

R.i.P. to everyone involved but the confession is so getting forgotten. I could see them remembering it in their dreams, reliving the confession and thinking it some sort of desperate flight of fancy... but then where does Skelly fit into all of this (╹ -╹)? He's twisted from Jack, but Jack is here (in the book) so how and why are the twst guys involved? I guess we shall see once the event starts up.

As for Riddle! Yutu I have a sort of Yutu schedule plan I intend to stick to so you'll have to wait a bit sadly. The plan is Jamil! Yutu (i didn't like what I wrote and had to re-do some stuff, but he's back on track to be posted pretty soon), then Vil! Yutu, and I think it's just Jack and Sebek after that. Once those are done it is back to baby Rosehearts... who I have some other asks about I might use as warm ups in the meantime. But I have a few other posts I want to work my way through first before I even post Vil's part (* ´ ﹃｀*)

I hope you're doing well too anon!